Jailbirds
by JamieluvsHHH
Summary: When WWE's top heels get thrown in jail.. they find that the only thing worst than being in jail, and not to mention the hideous orange jumpsuits, is being in jail with each other.


Disclaimer: I own no one used in this story.

Author's Note: This story was done for a challenge made by Terri

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**Chapter 1: Meet The Guys**

This place is full of characters. You've got the one who everyone's too afraid to fuck with. You've got the prankster by day; lady thriller by night, guy. You've got the old coop who looks like he's meant to be in a mental institution instead of a jail. You've got the one who has enough money to buy the whole damn jailhouse and put it on a yacht somewhere in the Bahamas.

And then, there's me. The guy that can provide you with anything your heart desires. I've got it all. Magazines, Posters, Food (_real_ food anyways), Cigarettes, Booze, DVDs, little DVD players, you name it... I got it.

You might be wondering what the hell is going on right now, right? Well, allow me to back up and introduce myself. I'm Adam Copeland, and I've been locked in this place for exactly 4 months. It's a wonder how I've managed to not pull my hair out in this shit hole. But like I said earlier, I'm the one with the 'outside resources' in this joint. This place pretty much needs me.

I'm looking up at the gray ceiling when my cellmate, Paul Levesque wakes up. Hey, remember that guy that everyone's afraid of that I was telling you about? Well, that's him. Good 'ole Paul.

He looked down at me from the top bunk and snarled.

"Good morning to you too, you dick". I say, actually whisper.

Bad move. He jumped down and was now standing next to my cot. "What was that Copeland?" He asked. It sounded like more of a threat than an actual question.

I rolled over on my side, so that I was now facing the wall. "I didn't say anything". I put my earphones to my iPOD in my ear, and turned it on, droning him out.

"That's what I thought". He said, laughing.

God, when were they gonna let this guy go? Or atleast move him to a different cell.

Just when I was starting to get some sleep, I'm awaken by the rugged voice of our jail guard, Officer.Austin.

"Alright princesses, it's time to get up" He yelled, banging his club against the bars of everyone's cell. I quickly take my earphones out, wrap it around my iPOD and shove it under my pillow. Oh no, I wasn't gonna have them take that away from me.

His partner in crime, Officer.Calloway, assists him and starts banging his club right on me and Paul's cell. This, of course sets Paul off. He starts gritting his teeth so loud that if the guys weren't waken by the noise the officer's were making, they certainly were waken by the sound of his teeth rubbing together.

Officer.Calloway laughs right in his face. Damn, he's lucky those bars were seperating them or Paul would've shreaded him to pieces by now.

I turn my attention from the two of them and focus on the keychain hanging off of Officer.Calloway's hip. It's the keys. The keys that hold my freedom. I have to find a way to get those keys. Even if it meant risking it all.

I couldn't just walk up to him and grab them. No, I am way smarter than that.

When they release us for breakfast, I walk into the cafeteria and find Randy Orton flirting with one of the lady jail guard's, Officer.James. She was blushing hard, and laughing.

If she had the keys, I would've been out of here already. I shake my head and get in line.

One of the food giving guys (can't call them lunch ladies), Mr.Hardy, is pretty cool. He always has wild colors in his hair and his finger nails are painted black. He always tries to cheer us up whenever we come through the line. He'll say something like, "Hey, cheer up. It could be worst, right?" WRONG! Other than actual Prison, this place sucks.

Shane McMahon, the rich guy I was telling you about, was ahead of me in line. When Mr.Hardy plopped the yellow gloop they call 'food' onto his plate, he became livid. "What the hell is this?" He asked, looking at his tray with disgust.

Mr.Hardy spoke cool and calmly, as always. "It's food, Shane".

Shane laughed. "You call this shit food?" He said, placing his tray down. He clapped his hands together, and out of nowhere, these two guys in white suits came over to him, carrying platers full of food.

'You've got to be fucking kidding me'. I thought to myself. This asshole was holding up the line, and we only had ten more minutes until breakfast was over.

He sat at a table, eating turkey, and ham, and crab legs. Fucking fatboy.

When I got through the line, there was 5 minutes left. Definitely not enough time to eat this crap. Lucky thing I keep a burger or two with me. Trust me, Shane isn't the only person who knows how to eat good in jail.


End file.
